1 5 6 A A N A LY T I C A L C H E M I S T R Y / M AY 1 , 2 0 0 5

e d i t o r i a l

© 2 0 0 5 A M E R I C A N C H E M I C A L S O C I E T Y

Chapters of Our Lives

This Editorial was inspired by a Senior Day ceremony forbasketball players. I appreciate the emotions they experi-

enced upon leaving the nest of affection of their fellow play-ers, coaches, and fans (myself included); departing from theeducational institution to which they have developed muchloyalty; and facing an impending change in life.

These emotions are certainly not unique to athletes; grad-uating students share them. I regularly teach instrumentalanalysis to seniors, in the spring of the year. This is a challeng-ing class, because the material is not easy and because stu-dents in their last semester tend to catch the debilitatingmood called “senioritis”. They understand that this is theirlast semester of the wonderful life of student-hood, and theywant to enjoy it (and study less). But I get the studentsthrough it, and on the last class day, I have a little speech thatis my Senior Day ceremony for them. Essentially, I tell themthis may be the last class day for them—ever, perhaps—so ap-preciate it. I advise them to remember that they “grew up” inChapel Hill as chemistry majors. I tell them I’m proud tohave taught them during their last undergraduate class. And Iurge them not to forget the importance of learning on theirown. That day is one on which I sometimes have a little catchin my throat—my words to these students are sincere—justlike the basketball coach on his Senior Day.

Students have, of course, a formal graduation ceremony atthe end of their last semester. I have always felt, however, thatprofessors should offer their own, personalized ceremony as Idescribe above. Having some parting words for students is afitting end to a class. After all, what we don’t pointedly tell

our students—although they may sense it—is that they reallyare leaving the sheltered life of a student and facing a worldof “do it or fail”. Professional life requires continued learning,but it is not a course. Failures in professional life are noterased by retaking the course, and successes usually bring nothappy relaxation but new responsibilities and challenges.

These ideas about roundball players and undergraduatechemistry majors finishing their classes as the end of one oflife’s chapters can be extended to many other situations. Theyinclude graduating from high school and becoming a fledg-ling Ph.D. In these circumstances, people face a dauntingchange of life. Yet there are many more chapters to come forthe newly gainfully employed graduate: the first raise, promo-tion, grant award (or rejection), publication of independentresearch, and patent—not to mention a spouse, a mortgage,and offspring.

Our modern society, including that of professional chem-ists, is a busy one, and in the United States we typically don’ttake the time to stand on ceremony. We tend to act as if cere-mony for its own sake is something to be tolerated ratherthan embraced. But a ceremony that reminds one of the startof a new chapter in life is an important observance. I encour-age my fellow professors around the world to give their stu-dents a bit of ceremony at the end of their senior classes.